Game Changer
by AvengeTheOddsAndSingToBeWanted
Summary: Before Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch, there was one more victor. This is the story of Aiden, the first victor from District 12, and how he, like the others, changed the Games forever.
1. Chapter 1

I look at myself in the mirror, its edges cracked and yellow from age. Tall, awkward and scared. That's what I see in my reflection. I rub my eyes and still see the same thing. You would think that after six years of this, and this year being my last, I wouldn't look like this, but surprises have happened before. Feeling scared was totally appropriate.

My mother knocks on my door and when I turn to look at her, she's smiling. She must be one of the few, if not the only person to be smiling on this day. She comes up to me, smoothing my shirt collar and my hair, after which she says, "There's my handsome boy."

"Mom, I'm eighteen. You don't have to keep doing that."

"I know, but you are my son, and I expect you to look your best." I shouldn't have been surprised. She is a seamstress after all. "Now, let's finish lunch and be on our way. Wouldn't want to be late."

On the kitchen table is bowl of vegetable soup and a freshly toasted loaf of bread from the bakery next door. We actually have a lot of nice food kept away, but she's saving them for dinner, after everything's over. We eat in silence, as we always have for the past six years, mentally preparing ourselves for what was about to happen at 2.

Once lunch's over, as my mom does some last minute adjustments, I glance around the place one more time. It had become a force of habit after I realized that it might be the last time I ever saw it. Mentally, I say goodbye to the place I've lived in forever. I don't have to anymore after today... if I'm lucky.

We head out the door and as if on clockwork, Cole and his little sister Leigh are there at the bottom of the front steps. "You two ready?"

I nod and we walk side by side, my mom and Leigh trailing a little behind us. He has cleaned up a lot too, wearing the new clothes my mother gave to him as a birthday gift a few months back. His black hair's combed back, too neat for him but he still did every year. He hated looking like that, said it made him too "stiff". Guess he'll be glad that it's our last year.

"How many times is your name in today?" He turns to ask.

"Ten. You?"

"Twenty-seven. Guess the odds aren't really in my favour." He sighs. "But I shouldn't complain. There're kids with almost forty names in the bowl. Twenty seven is nothing compared to that."

He's right. People in our district barely have enough food to get by, not to mention those in the Seam. Signing up for tesserae was the only way to save yourself from starvation. I was lucky. I only had to put my name in three extra times when my father died and we had to close the shop for a few months. When Cole's parents died, we tried to help him, but it wasn't enough. Even if he helped out at his aunt's store in the Hob, he still had to sign up for tesserae a few times every year. It also didn't help that he refused for Leigh to have her name in the bowl any more times than necessary, even in the winter, when everything was harsh. He would have been much worse of if my mother didn't insist on helping them.

Before we know it, we are near the square. Almost everyone is already there, taking their places in front of the Justice Building. There's only the sound of feet shuffling and crunching gravel. It isn't really a big question as to why no one's talking.

My mother gives us a gentle smile, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. "Good luck out there you three. I'll see you afterwards. We can celebrate with a good dinner tonight."

I squeeze her hand before Cole and I head to the eighteen year old section. He gives Leigh a quick hug, telling her something about not being scared. She smiles a little before joining the others in the fourteen year old group.

We don't have to wait very long before our district's escort, Ophelia Sterling, struts onto stage with her platinum white curls bouncing off her shoulders. Her sparkly silver dress looks so tight that it looked like she would burst. And her heels that are at least 5 inches... how she can walk in them I will never know.

"Welcome, everyone, to the twentieth Hunger Games," her high-pitched voice, laced with the Capitol accent that nobody could stand, fills the square as she spoke into the microphone, "and may the odds be ever in your favour."

Unlike the career districts, where the crowds cheer and clap, we stay silent, looking almost bored even. It's the same every year, and every year, I watch Ophelia look so awkward and deflated at the lack of response and each time is just as amusing as the last one.

"Well then," she sighs but forces her too black lips into a smile. "Ladies first." She walks to the bowl filled with slips of girls' names. She reaches in, moves her hand about for a few seconds and pulls out one slip.

She unfolds it and reads, "Harper Paige."

I hear Cole release a sigh of relief. I do too. Thank god it's not Leigh. I look over to the movement in the sixteen-year-olds to see a girl a good head shorter than me walk towards the stage. Her ponytail swings behind her as she takes the steps. As she takes her place I can clearly see her expression and it isn't one of fear. In fact, she actually looks pissed off.

"And now, the gentleman." Ophelia reaches into the boys' bowl and pulls out a slip of paper.

This is it. After this, it will be all over. I don't have to deal with this anymore. I don't have to wake up scared any longer.

She unfolds the paper and reads out the name.

"Aiden Decker."

The words bounce around my head but they don't register. It's only when Cole looks at me with shock that I actually realise what happened.

That's my name.

I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't do anything. It has to be wrong. It can't possibly be happening. Not to me. Not now.

I'm shaken out of it when Cole pushes me onto the path that leads to the stage. "Go." He says it sternly, but all I can see in his eyes are pain.

All eyes are on me now. I force myself to walk. My heart is beating so violently that I feel like I'm having a heart attack. I'm on the verge on a panic attack, I can just feel it.

By some miracle, I make it to the stage. I stand next to Ophelia, and as she says, "Let's give a warm round of applause to our tributes!" I see my mother, shaking and close to tears. I have to force myself to not cry. The last thing I need is for people to think of me as weak.

After yet another round of silence, peacekeepers usher us into rooms. I'm shoved into a plush couch and the door slams behind them.

My hands are shaking. I still breathe in short gasps. My heart is racing, trying to break out of my chest. This can't be happening. It can't.

The door creaks open and my mom walks through. She immediately pulls me into a hug. I don't cry, but I allow one sob to escape.

She pats the back of my head. "Oh sweetie..." The pain in her voice is heart-wrenching. She pulls back and looks right into my eyes.

"Aiden, listen to me okay?" I nod and she continues. "Whatever happens, be yourself. Don't change in there. Just be your old usual self, you got it?

"Work with your mentor and escort. Sure you might not like them, but they know better than you. And make some allies, you'll never know when you might need them. I recommend Harper. She's been to the shop a few times. She's seems nice enough.

"And lastly, I know you don't want to kill anybody, but if you're in a situation where someone is a threat to your life, you fight back. Your survival above all else okay? Just don't kill someone because you feel like it. You are not a killer; you are just fighting for your survival."

I nod, but when I look up at her, I can't help but say, "Mom... I scared."

"I know you are honey, and that's okay. It's a natural human response to feel scared. Everybody's scared at one point or another in their lives. But you need to know this," she squeezes my hand tight in hers. "Being scared doesn't get you anywhere. You can't let fear stop you and keep you running away. You just have to learn to turn around, take a deep breath and face whatever's in your way. You can be scared, but you have to brave too."

"Oh I almost forgot." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of cloth about the length of my forearm. "Here's your token."

Only when she puts it in front of me do I realise what it is. It's from the first piece of fabric my dad ever sold from the shop. He kept it in memory of that, and we keep it in memory of him.

"Mom, I can't take this." I push it back towards her. "It's one of the few things we have left of him."

"I know, but he would want you to have it." She ties it around my wrist, using her slender fingers to tuck the loose ends away. As she does so, I look at her. Her bun coming loose, a hint of grey hair falling behind her ears. The wrinkles on her face, appearing too early for someone her age. Her pale beige dress, the entire thing hand sewn herself. She's been so strong for far too long. Being the only family she has left, I can't lose. Not after all she's done.

She takes my hands in hers again. "Aiden, I want you to know that no matter what happens, I'll be supporting you. Whether you make it to the final three of get killed at the bloodbath, I'm there for you. And don't forget... I love you."

"I love you too." I pull her into another hug. I don't want to let go, but it isn't very long later that a peacekeeper comes in to tell us that time is up.

She doesn't say anything. She just presses a kiss to my forehead and then, she's gone.

Two groups come in after her, the first of who are my friends from school who all give me hugs and small pieces of advice. The second group consists of the shopkeepers who were good friends with my dad. They too give my advice and some things from their stores, a few cookies here and a handful of sweets there.

Cole's the last visit I have, and when he enters, he heads straight towards me and hugs me. I'm a little taken aback, because he has never been the emotional one, but I don't hold that against him and hug him back.

When we move apart, the first thing he says is, "I'm so sorry for pushing you back there. You weren't moving and I had to do something before-"

"I know." If I took too long to go up the stage, the peacekeepers would have dragged me there, which would have been a hell of a lot more embarrassing. "Thanks."

He flashes a faint smile before sighing, running his long fingers through his hair. "I can't believe this. You had ten slips out of the thousands."

"Guess the odds weren't exactly in my favour." I shrug. There have been twelve year olds with their name in once being reaped. The odds have never been in anyone's favour.

"I thought you would be freaking out by now. Leigh's already crying her eyes out because of this."

"Where is she?" I ask, wondering why she didn't join him.

"She's with your mom." He pauses before continuing, "They're really going to miss you."

"I'll miss them too." I turn to him and smile. "I'll miss you too, you know."

"Well, I'm not going to miss you," He smirks. "How can I when you're gonna be on the TV every night?"

There he is. The real Cole. The one who can always crack a joke under any circumstance. He's the bright, funny light in this depressing, godforsaken district. And even though he's a pain in the ass sometimes, he is my best friend and I would really miss him.

"Joking aside..." he shifted in his seat, leaning closer towards me. "When you're in there, trust your instinct. Your intuition is the best I know, so you follow it. I don't care who tells you what, but if you feel that it isn't right, you do not go through with it, you hear me? And please, try to get a good score for training. 12 doesn't need any more failures or bare passes."

I nod. There he goes again, trying to act like my protector. I was weaker and used to get injured a lot when I was younger, and he was always there to help me. Since then, I had become stronger and more careful, and even though I've told him a million times that he didn't need to keep looking out for me, he still did it anyway. He had my back, and I his. It's been that way for eleven years.

After that, we sit in silence. We know that time's running out, but we don't say anything. Just being there with each other was enough.

A long, quiet minute later, he says, "Aiden... can I tell you something?"

"Sure." I'm not sure what else he has to add, but I sit up and listen.

He takes a deep breath before he starts. "I just wanted to say that I... I..." He sighs in frustration, shaking his head. I want to ask, but before I can, he gives an obviously fake smile. "I just want to say... good luck."

He's lying. After years of being friends, I know when he's lying, and this is one of those times. He clearly has something else to say, but he chose not to. I want to know what it is but... he must have a reason, so I decide not to question him. "Thanks." is all I say. "Take care of mom for me."

"After all your family's done for us, how could I not?"

The peacekeeper comes in seconds later to escort him out. Before he leaves, he gives me another hug, tighter and longer this time. "Be careful out there."

"I will," I say as I let go of him. He flashes me one last smile, a real one, and then he exits the room. I barely have enough time to even feel anything before I'm whisked out of the room and into a car.

Paige and I are sitting at the sides, with Ophelia squeezed between us. The entire time, she just keeps talking and talking, I drown it out the best I can. I turn to see how Paige's holding up and like I expected, she's not crying. In fact, she has a look of resolve on her face. For a Seam girl, she's much braver than her past counterparts. She may even be tougher than me.

The minute we reach the train station, we are pulled out of the car and shoved through the crowd. When the three of us are firmly on the train, the doors shut and the train begins picking up speed.

Both Harper and I rush to the windows, watching our district, our home, disappear into the distance.

At that moment, I think: This may be the last time I ever see 12 again. Or my mom. Or Cole. Or anyone else in my life.

And somehow, that's more terrifying than anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

Once District 12 has completely left my field of vision, I push myself away from the window. This is it. This is really happening.

As I turn back around, I take in what has to be the living room of the train. There's a plush sofa and a few couches centred around a flat screen television. At the end closest to us is a bar, stock full of alcohol. On the far end's the dining room, the table full of finger foods. Not only that, but the floor is perfectly lacquered wood. I'm finally introduced to the Capitol life.

Ophelia's still standing there, waiting with her obnoxious smile. "If you two are done, let me show you to your rooms."

She leads us down this long lavish hallway and as we walk, I can only think about how steady the train is. The people in District 6 must have worked really hard on it.

"Harper this will be your room, and Aiden, that will be yours." She gestures to a door a little further down. "I'll inform you when it's time for dinner." After thanking her, I enter the room and it's just as stunning as the living room.

The entire floor is carpeted, soft under my feet. The bed's almost three times bigger than mine back home, with sheets that look incredibly smooth. I can't help but jump spread-eagle onto the bed and enjoy the cool sheets. Thank you District 8.

I decide to take a shower and head into the bathroom. Despite having taken a quick bath back in 12, the marble wall and tiled floor are so pristine that I just feel dirty compared to all of it.

The shower isn't that much better, with rows of buttons that did god knows what. After some trial and error (which involved me getting cold water splashed directly onto my head), I find the right buttons and lukewarm water pours onto me, with shampoo and soup added directly to my body. It even comes with a built in blow dryer, so I come out of the shower dry without even touching a towel.

I open the drawers and get an even bigger surprise. Every colour of the spectrum is inside in the form of shirts and pants. Not only that, but they are made from the best fabric I've ever seen, and that's coming from me, whose parents own a fabric store. They would definitely be excited if they were here.

I change into a white top and navy pants, not that much different from what I wore earlier. I pick up my token from where I dumped my old clothes and tie it back around my wrist. It's the colour of coal, but it's almost as smooth as silk.

I still remember my dad telling me the story of how he sold it. He had just taken over the business from his father and it was on his third day of the job that someone finally came in to actually buy something. It was the Mayor's wife, who bought some cloth to make clothes for her son. It was the most expensive one in the store, and my dad swore that it was his lucky charm, because once that fabric was sold, there hadn't been a day without a sale since.

It's been 5 years since he died. The last memory I have of him is one where he's lying on his bed, in his last few hours of life, looking pale with sunken cheeks, but still with a smile on his face. That was how he and my mom were perfect for each other. Somehow they could both smile in our dull district.

I try to be like that, to stay so optimistic, but I just can't. Not when there's so much pain and suffering and the goddamn hunger games in my life. There are better days when I do smile, but I can't keep it for long. I smile, but most of the time, I don't mean it. Some days it doesn't even seem like I'm related to my parents.

If there was anyone else I couldn't understand, it was Cole. He too was a smiler, albeit not as much as my parents. He has it much worse than me, with both parents dead and a younger sister to take care of, but there he is, smiling and joking. I don't know how he does it, but when I'm with him, I can't help but smile too. It's contagious, I know it. Even Leigh's smiling a bit too much for my comfort.

Thinking of them now brings a stab of pain to my heart. I miss them so much, and it's only been an hour. Who knows what I'm going to feel when I'm in the arena.

I sit down by the window, watching the world rush past in a blur. Right now, all I see is the wilderness, but I know that in a few more minutes, I'll be able to see the vast fields of District 11. Nowadays, this is the closest people get to the other districts. Ever since the Dark Days, travelling between districts is restricted to important officials only. Before, anyone could visit the other district (with the right documents of course), but now, I guess the Capitol wants as little contact between them as possible, what with all the killing of each other's children and all.

I remember my dad telling me stories of what it was before the Dark Days, of how his own father would bring him to the districts and all the friends he made. According to him, my great-grandfather was from 8. He moved to 12 to expand trade, so that's how they started the business and also how my family's the only one in 12 that has green irises with gold flecks in the centre.

I take a look at myself in the mirror next to me. My eyes are a deeper green than my father's, with a slight grey tinge to them from my mother. I've always been told that I'm a perfect combination of them both, but my mom insists that I'm the splitting image of my dad. I have his height as well as his build, not to mention his thick head of hair, but my face is nearly the same as my mom's, with a defined jawline and sharp nose. Both of them were kind and friendly people, willing to help people in need. They understood more things than others did, and that was passed on to me. I was less sociable and more introverted than them, but the deep understanding of the people and things around us was the same.

When my dad caught that virus, he couldn't lose it. And despite having his health deteriorate every day for a whole year, he still remained his old caring self. And when he died, it was like a light had gone out. My mom was devasted, but she remained strong, taking over the business while raising me. That's why I can't lose. I can't leave her. Not after all that she's done.

I must have spent more time in deep thought than I realised because it isn't very long later that I hear Ophelia knocking on my door. I make my way to the dining room to find out that I'm the first one there. I take a seat, unsure of what to do while I wait. My stomach grumbles at the smell wafting from the kitchen. I didn't even realise that I was hungry.

Minutes later, Harper comes along, wearing a pastel blue blouse with tailored pants. She takes a seat across from me and there's a silence. It's awkward because we don't know each other but my mom did say that she would make a good ally, so I take the initiative.

"You look nice." I have no idea what she'll make of that, but judging by her expression, she's taken aback. By the fact that I spoke first or that I'm complimenting her, I'll never know.

"Thanks. You don't look too shabby yourself." She smirks and I think that's the closest I'll get to a smile from her. For now at least, it's a good start.

There's the sound of clacking heels and Ophelia's here, wearing a frilly gold dress with equally poofy hair. "Nice to see that you two are punctual," she says when she sees the two of us. "Now, I'll like you to meet your mentor."

District 12 is the only one that hasn't had a victor, so our mentor has to be from another district. He doesn't even have to enter the room for me to know who he is. Mason Spiers. The victor of the 13th Hunger Games from District 2. He was originally the mentor of his own district but since they got another winner a couple years later; he was asked - or more like forced - to help us.

He's a big guy, with muscles that put anyone else's to shame. He has the classic District 2 look of stone grey eyes with strong sharp features. He won when he was 16, by killing most of the other tributes with a sword that he got from the Cornucopia. The fight that made him victor got him a huge scar on his right calf, which he famously tattooed over with a picture of a sword.

I look at him now, taking a seat next to Harper. He's as huge as on television, but not as menacing, now that he's wearing a plain white shirt and pants. Compared to last year, his collection of tattoos has gotten bigger, with an almost complete sleeve on his right arm. He gives me a look over and I immediately feel self-conscious. I'm not scrawny, neither am I weak, but compared to him, I might as well be. I'm just glad that I have a substantial amount of meat on my bones. The previous years' male tributes from 12 have mostly been from the Seam, and they were all bags of bones.

I don't show him my nervousness. "Hey," I try to say in my most disinterested voice.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and then looks at Harper, who only acknowledges him with a nod. "Nice to meet you too," he says sarcastically. If he kept that sarcasm up, I might just end up liking him.

The food arrives shortly after and I can barely keep myself from drooling. Green soup dotted with white foam, a plate of what seems like edible flowers drizzled with honey, grilled meat stacked on a bed of potatoes. I can't help but say, "Oh my God." Harper has the same expression as me, eyes wide in disbelief. Back in 12, it was impossible to get the ingredients they have here, much less afford it.

"Well, don't be shy. Dig in," Ophelia smiles to us. I fight the urge to just stuff my face because I don't want them to think that I'm uncivilised. So I eat, taking as much as I can. Harper does too, but from the speed at which she's eating, I can tell that she's starving. She's not as thin as most people are from the Seam, but thin enough to know that she has had days with too little food in her system. I'm fortunate enough to come from a merchant family, and even though it was tough, we still managed to put some food on the table.

I eat till I'm bursting, and even then I still stuff myself with the rainbow cake they prepared. My lips are stained with cake and I can see Mason judging me from the corner of my eye, but I don't care; it's good food.

As the dishes are cleared, we head into the living room to watch the recap of the Reapings. I don't say anything, but I'm terrified. The last thing I need is to see my competition, because if I want win, they all have to die, including Harper, who's next to me on the sofa right now. I don't want to have anyone's blood on my hands. I don't think I could live with the guilt.

A lady with big turquoise hair and a man who has obviously had one too many facelifts appear on screen. Like any other year, they welcome us to the first day of the Games. "This year, we have an exciting line up of tributes. Let's take a look, shall we?"

The feed then cuts to clips of the reapings in the districts. Like always, the tributes from 1, 2 and 4 look the strongest and cockiest, being Careers and all. It's not really fair, considering that they are trained to fight even though it's illegal. Competing in the games has become an honour for them, so much so that people willingly volunteer to be tributes. Because of this, most of the victors are careers, especially 2, who has 3 of the 19 victors, one of which is sitting right next to me.

As the clips continue playing, I see tributes crying, terrified, and shaking in their pants. There are also those who look confident, calm and composed. It's an interesting thing to see those from the weaker districts look act like that, to remain so strong even when they barely have a chance.

Then there is District 12, the Justice Building looking so dull and gloomy compared to the others. When Ophelia calls out Harper's name, the camera pans to her face and for a brief moment, fear flashes on her face before it's replaced by a scowl, the same one that she has on right now. I don't know why she keeps doing that. She's pretty, and if she just smiles, even a little, I think she would be stunning.

I hear my name called. I turn back just in time to see Cole push me out of the crowd. The camera's on me now, showing my every expression. It's weird to see myself on the television, to know that my face is now known to the entire country. I'm scared, but I hide it well. My face is void of emotion but the way my chest is heaving shows just how hard I'm trying to not hyperventilate.

They cut directly to when the two of us are finally on stage, and right before they end the clip, my expression has changed into a death glare, and at the very last second, I stare straight into the camera. I had no idea that I did that, and now that I see myself, looking so deadly, I feel a sudden sense of terror. The Games are already changing me.

When the reporters return on screen, Mason turns to us and says, "At least you two didn't cry. The pair last year was so annoying with all their tears and sobbing." The previous tributes were both from the Seam, a twelve year old girl and a thirteen year old boy who had been friends since young.

I take it back. Maybe Mason wasn't such a great guy after all.

"Well this definitely looks like it's gonna be an exciting Games," smiles the female reporter, "Tune in tomorrow for the opening ceremony!"

The recaps end, returning to some weird Capitol programme. Mason looks to us and says, "Now, I want you two to get a good night sleep. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

"Yes sir," Harper says as she rolls her eyes and I can't help but smile. He glares at us, but doesn't say anything. We quickly leave and once we're out of earshot, she says, "What a dick!"

She's right. I know my mom said to trust him, but how can I when he acts like that? He's not even that much older than me; there's just a three year difference and already he acts like he's some big shot. Given that he is a District 2 victor, but he could at least pretend like he cares.

After we say our goodnights to each other, Harper and I retire to our separate rooms. I strip down to my boxers and crawl under the covers, hoping that I'm so unconsciously tired that the minute my head hits the pillow, I'll be sound asleep, but no such luck.

Instead, I stare straight up at the ceiling and all of I can think of is what's happening back home in 12. My mom must have prepared the food saved, sparing no effort in making a great meal, despite having her only son taken away to fight for his survival. Cole and Leigh were surely there, having a full meal. It would be just like normal. Except that I wouldn't be there. The atmosphere would be all wrong, too deadly quiet. No laughing, no chatter, nothing.

I can just imagine it. They would have probably watched the recaps over dinner, no one talking the entire time. Once dinner was over, Cole would leave right afterwards, not staying behind like he normally would. He would be pulling a red eyed Leigh behind him, thanking my mom, who would have just nodded in response.

Right now, they would all be in their cold beds, while I'm lying comfortably in this soft bed. But at least they're safe. Me on the other hand, I'm on my way to death. Oh the irony.

An hour of tossing and turning later, I finally start to drift off. As I do, I imagine that the train's not taking me to the Capitol, but back to 12. Back to my home, back to family, back to my friends. That's all I want, but am I prepared to do whatever it takes?

I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want to be a murderer. I don't want anyone's blood on my hands. I've never been a fighter, Cole was, and I was the one who liked to talk things through. So how the hell was I supposed to use a weapon, much less kill someone?

But if I wanted to go home, I guess I would just have to learn.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up with a start to loud knocking on my door and by the sound of the heels click-clacking on the floor that follows after, it has to be Ophelia.

I head to the bathroom and in the mirror, I see myself, hair in a mess but looking much better than I was yesterday. A full night's sleep in a Capitol bed has done me a world of help.

After a quick wash-up, I lean forward on the counter, staring right at myself. This is it. The day I reach the Capitol. It's gonna be a whole new world compared to 12, and there's going to be a lot of crazy people there, so I have to be prepared.

I decide to wear the clothes from last night and to comb through my hair with just my fingers because when I get to the Capitol, I'm going to be made so clean and so neat that I won't even recognize myself anyway. So I better embrace my messy side while I still can.

I get to the dining room to find Harper already there, her plate full of food. On the table itself there're plates of breakfast foods, more than I've ever seen before.

As I take a seat, I say, "Morning."

"Morning," she replies, looking up from her plate. "You have to try this. I have no idea what it is but it tastes incredible!"

On her plate is a stack of at least three pancakes, drizzled with thick syrup. It definitely looks delicious. "You've never tried pancakes before?"

"I think I did once when I was really young, but I forgot how great they taste." She stuffs a huge slice into her mouth. "You have to try some. They are so good."

I fill my plate with food and take a bite of the pancakes. It seems to melt in my mouth, and the buttery, soft explosion is amazing. My mom made some really nice ones before, but they are nothing compared to the ones in front of me.

As the two of us continued devouring our breakfast, Mason enters and out of courtesy I greet him. "Morning."

He stares at me for a second before he sits down, only giving me a nod. I give Harper a look that says, "Wow, this guy's rude." The look she responds with is an "I told you so."

Mason fills his plate, eyeing both of ours. "You two seem well rested... and well awake. Good, because I need to know a few things."

He takes a long sip of coffee before saying, "Now, I need to know what your strengths and weaknesses are, if you have any in the first place."

"Well, we do have one strength," Harper says between bites, "We'll never complain about having no food because we've been through all types of hunger before."

Mason just glares at her. "You think this a funny? This is your life on the line. The last thing you should be doing is to joke about it. Now, any weapons, survival skills, anything?"

Harper's muttering under her breath, so I answer him. "Nothing. We don't start working until we're 19, and there isn't really a need to learn anything else."

"Yeah, and unlike some districts, we don't grow up being trained to use swords to kill people." Harper looks pointedly at Mason.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning. "You two seriously have no skills?"

Harper speaks up again. "Hey, don't blame us, it's not fault that our district doesn't need us to learn anything until we're too old."

He sighs. "I've mentored your district for 5 years; I don't know what I expected. Every year it's always the same, pathetic tributes who don't know anything."

"What did you just call us?" That's all it took for the two of them to start shouting each other. This was so frustrating. How are we supposed to get anything done if they keep this up? It needs to stop right now.

"Shut up!" I shout, effectively stopping them. "Stop it the two of you! Why the hell are you arguing? It's no use if you two keep shouting at each other."

I turn to Harper. "Look, I know that you think he's a jerk, I do too, but he is our mentor. He's won this thing once, so he's gonna know a thing or two about helping us survive in there. So can you at least try to tolerate and listen to him?"

She glares at me, then at Mason, then back to me. Finally, she rolls her eyes and says with as little enthusiasm as possible, "Fine."

Then I move on to Mason. "Yes, you're a victor, and you're from District 2, but that doesn't mean you can look down on us. You were a tribute once, and if I remember correctly, you weren't the easiest to work with. You're our mentor; it's your job to help us. So will you please stop acting like a complete asshole and teach us something?"

He stares at me with what I think is disbelief. Probably because I'm the first one to ever shout at him like that. I know that he's pissed, but I hold my ground. I did nothing wrong, and he knows it.

"Okay, fine." He holds his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm sorry. I'm just so tired of having tributes that don't have any worthy skills. I want them to win, but I can't make that happen if they don't know anything."

I take a sip of my juice before I say, "We might not have any skills, but who knows, we might be fast learners, or have natural talent maybe? We're not that useless." I gesture towards Harper. "Take her for example. She's fast."

She turns to me, an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"I've seen you run. You are crazy fast. And quiet too. You have no idea how many times you've scared me by appearing without a sound."

Mason must be interested because he starts leaning closer, paying more attention, which is good. He needs to know what we can do.

"What about you?" Harper turns to him, pointing her fork at me. "He's strong."

My expression must have been one of doubt because the next thing she says is, "Please, I've seen you carrying those huge bundles of fabrics. You're careful and sharp too. Don't think I don't know that you help your mom with the clothes sometimes."

I have nothing to say to that. It's all true so I can't lie. It's just so weird to hear all those things about me.

"Not bad," Mason says, smiling for the first time since I've met him, "Maybe you two aren't as hopeless as I thought."

I roll my eyes. Old habits really do die hard.

The smile disappears from his face, total seriousness replacing it. "Now listen up, we reach in the Capitol in less than fifteen minutes and the once you get off the train, you'll be dragged off to be prepared for the opening ceremony. You're going to meet your stylists and as crazy as they are, you do what they say, because tonight is going to be the first time the people officially meet you and they know how to make sure that you give them a great first impression. I know they're from the Capitol, but they are nice people. Trust me; I've known them for 5 years."

The opening ceremonies: my least favourite part of the pre-games. Why? Because we're going to be dressed up in stupid clothes, just to be put on show for the Capitol. Not only that, but because the costumes are supposed to reflect the district's industry, 12's costumes have always been the ugliest. It's always coal miners' uniforms or some weird variation of that. How were we supposed to give anybody an amazing first impression if we looked like that?

As I think, Ophelia enters the room. "I heard shouting. Is everything alright here?"

Mason waves it off. "It's nothing. Just a little argument. Aiden here helped us stop it."

She gives me a nod of approval. So I'm in their good books. That should help me right?

The train car suddenly goes dark. We must be going through the tunnels that take us to the Capitol. The most of I've seen of it is through pictures in my textbooks and from a few clips of the Games. This will be the first time I'm seeing for real, and from what I've seen, I expect it to be breath-taking.

The train exits the tunnel and when I look through the window, I'm not disappointed.

The Capitol is full of tall skyscrapers, their glass windows reflecting the clear blue sky. There are rows upon rows of colourful houses and shops, with cobblestone roads lining the pavement in front of them. It is beyond anything I've expected.

As the train slowly pulls into the station, I can't help but move to the window. I know that Capitol people are weird, but now that I see them up close, weird feels like an understatement. Those in the station waving to us are dressed so brightly that it actually hurts my eyes. Their hair, makeup and surgery-changed bodies are equal parts crazy and creepy. They look so genuinely happy to see us, but I know that it's only because we're the fresh batch of tributes. The thought disgusts me, but I don't do anything about it. I shoot a fake smile at them and they scream even louder. Those sick bastards.

When the train comes to a complete stop, Ophelia rushes us to the door, which opens seconds after we get there. A flash from a camera almost blinds me, and before I can even regain my sight, I'm pushed through a throng of brightly coloured people, with questions and screams in my ears. I can't even hear myself think when I'm forced into a car with Harper.

The windows are completely dark, so I have no idea where we're going. After half hour, we stop and are again pushed out of the car, into an elevator. We don't even have to push any buttons and we're going up. I have barely enough time to catch my breath before the doors open and a group of three pull me out.

I feel as if I'm being kidnapped, but I know that this is standard procedure. I'm in a chair, with three who must be my prep team, busying themselves around me. As they prepare to scrub me down and clean me up, I pick up on their names.

Lorenza, the only female of the group, has an electric blue pixie cut with rows of piercings on her ears and her eyebrow. She has her hands in my hair when she says, "You're hair is so soft! Damien, you to have to feel this."

Damien, who is preparing a cream on one of the counters, turns around. His magenta hair is striking against his pale skin, as well as his cheeks bones which are too sharp to possibly be real. "You poor ones are always the luckiest, aren't you?"

Before I can comment on how insensitive that was, the last member of my prep team pops his head out from behind a partition. "Stop playing with the poor boy's hair and let him take his bath."

"Fine," Lorenza huffs, rolling her eyes. "Alexander is always such a spoil sport. He takes the fun out of everything."

Alexander, with his moss green crew cut and beige contacts, is visibly the oldest of the three. He brings into a room with a large tub in the middle. "Just soak in there for 10 minutes and I'll come get you."

All I can see is bubbles but when I step in, the smell of grapes invades my nose. And as I rest my head against the back of the tub, I try my best to relax my body, letting the warm water loosen my tense muscles. I really need to learn how to appreciate what possibly could be the last days of my life.

Just as I'm about to nod off, Alexander comes back in, ordering me out and back into the prep room. Once there, I'm put through some many procedures I lose count. My hair is washed and trimmed, my body is scrubbed till it's pink and raw, whatever facial hair I had (or didn't had) is shaved off and cream is applied to ensure that it doesn't grow back. It's torture, but I can just imagine how much worse it must be for Harper.

After one last look over, they decide that I'm finally ready to meet my stylist. I sit by myself in the cold room, wondering what god ugly costume we have to put on. If it's another miner uniform, I'm going to just accept my humiliation right here.

The doors open and my stylist steps in, reaching a hand out. "Hi, I'm Aglaia. You must be Aiden. I hope the team didn't scare you."

I shake her hand, smiling. "They were... okay. A few problems with invading my personal space, but that's all. "

She gives a breathy laugh. "Ah well, that can't be helped. Let's sit and discuss your outfit."

Aglaia, compared to every other Capitol person I've seen, looks normal, or less normal depending on where you're looking from. She has waist-long hair the colour of caramel with streaks of gold. She has minimal makeup on, just a dash of pink on her eyelids and dark red lips. The most striking thing about her though, is her irises, which somehow change colour every time she blinks. When I first saw her, they were violet, and now, they are peach.

"Now, as you know, your opening ceremony outfits are supposed to reflect your district's industry, so this year-"

"It's gonna be coal miner costumes again isn't it?"

"Yes and no. My partner and I have decided that yes, you mine coal, but that doesn't mean you can't look good doing it." She brings out a garment bag, unzipping it. "I hope you aren't afraid of some nudity."

I have no idea why she asks that until she makes me change into the costume. The pants are like any other miner's pants, long and baggy, but mine were tapered at the ankles. As for the shirt… I don't even have one. No wonder she asked... I'm going to be shirtless. This is going to be way worse than a miner outfit.

When I stepped out of the changing room, oddly enough I don't feel as self-conscious as I would have thought, even with Aglaia looking at me from all angles. I'm well fed, so I'm not scrawny, which must be a change from what she is used to.

"Perfect!" She claps her hands together, smiling. "Now, if you could just close your eyes for just a sec..."

I do as she says and feel some sort of fine powder being blown onto my skin. I have to resist the urge to open my eyes to see what it is. A few seconds later, she's done. I open my eyes to see myself covered in a thin layer black powder.

"It's synthetic coal dust." She wipes off some excess from my cheek, leaving just enough to make me look like I actually mined coal. "Let's go meet the others."

We leave the prep room to meet Harper and her stylist. She's wearing the exact thing I am, except that she has on a grey tank top and a deep scowl on her face that I can't help but smile at.

She sees me smiling and the scowl only gets bigger. "Don't you dare say anything."

It's clear how much she hates it. I don't blame her. There's nothing fun about being dressed up and covered with fake coal. But the thing is, she doesn't look that bad. She's thin, but she fills out her costume perfectly. It's also better than being in a shirt and baggy pants.

We take the elevator down to the stables. Most of the other tributes are already there and as we walk towards our chariot, many of them give us looks, varying from smug to pitiful to judging. I observe them as well. The Careers are much bigger up close and their costumes are much nicer considering they're from districts with the more glamorous industries. The others don't look that much different, but some have much worse costumes than us, like 8, whose outfits are literally various fabrics sewn together.

Mason is waiting for us by our coal black chariot and horses. Before we get on, he instructs us, "Stand tall and chest out. Don't forget to smile. I'm talking to you Harper."

"Why should I be smiling when all they want is to see me dead?" She's right. Why should we when they're betting on our lives?

"They might want you dead, but some want you alive and they will be your sponsors only if you show them you're worth it."

Exasperated, she says, "Fine." Thank God, because the last thing we need is more conflict.

Loud music blasts throughout the stables, letting us know it's time. We take our places on the chariot and the doors open, the sound of cheers and screams reaching our ears. By the time it's our turn, the crowd is deafening, going crazy at the sight of us.

I give them a smile and a wave, making them go even crazier. I turn to see Harper doing the same thing. I know that it's killing her inside, but I'm proud of her for doing so.

The chariots come to stop. I look up to see the newly elected president, Coriolanus Snow, with his greying hair and altered face, glancing at all of us. He motions for the crowd to quiet down. As he stares down at us, he starts the usual welcoming speech. "Welcome everyone to the twentieth Hunger Games. We salute our tributes for their bravery and sacrifice. To them, I wish a happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

As the chariots start heading back to the stables, I think about how much I hated that line. 'May the odds be ever in your favour.' It sounds as if we all have equal odds, but of course we don't. The odds have never been in the poorer districts' favour, much less anyone in districts at all. It gives everyone a false sense of hope and it's horrible.

Everyone's waiting for us back inside, so when we get down, we're bombarded with comments. Ophelia's the first. "You two looked amazing!" This is followed by Aglaia saying, "I told you they would like it."

Mason pats both of our shoulders. "I'm proud of you. You guys did well out there."

The frown returns to Harper's face. "My face actually hurts from all that smiling."

"Don't worry. Once you're in the arena, you can keep scowling all you like." He brings us to the elevators. "Come on; time to see your home for the next week."

We pack into an elevator and Mason presses the button 12. As we slowly make our way up, Ophelia tells us, "You might be from 12, but that doesn't mean you can't live in style. You're lucky, because you get the penthouse! The view is just spectacular!"

She's not kidding, because when the doors open, we're greeted by an enormous living room with a wall made of glass, giving us an amazing look at the glowing Capitol, shining bright against the dark of the sky. I go to the window, staring down at the lights and people, listening to all the noise and festivities. For a short moment, I forget that I'm here for the Games, that I'm being sent to my death in a week, instead that I'm here just to enjoy the sights.

It doesn't last very long because I see myself on a huge screen on one of the buildings, with my name, district and the odds of me winning. Those odds snap me back to reality. They remind me that I'm here to fight in a dangerous game where I have to fight for my own survival, where I can't afford to lose. As of right now, the odds aren't in my favour.

If I'm to win, I'm gonna have to change those odds. It's not gonna be easy, but I have to try.


End file.
